


Life is Strange: WWII

by DanielSan5992



Series: Life is Strange: WWII [1]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - World War II, F/F, Gen, Jefferson’s a nazi just because, Not Completely Historically Accurate, Other LiS characters will briefly appear, amberprice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25874917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanielSan5992/pseuds/DanielSan5992
Summary: Chloe Price originally started out as a mechanic in North Africa. Now she’s one of the thousands of soldiers approaching Omaha Beach.
Relationships: Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price, Rachel Amber/Chloe Price
Series: Life is Strange: WWII [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901755
Comments: 7
Kudos: 11





	1. The Calm

**Author's Note:**

> Another one of my dumb ideas.
> 
> Apologies to any of you if you are German and read this.
> 
> And respect to all that have served and are currently serving.

The date is the 6th. Of June. In 1944. Off the coast of France. Near Normandy. How Chloe Price managed to find herself wound up on a troopship anchored miles away from the coast of France about to partake in one of the most important operations in the entire war surprised her just as much as anybody else. 

She lit a cigarette. She wasn’t complaining, though. Fighting Nazis in Europe was better than wasting her life away in Oregon. Nothing was keeping her there anyway, her best friend having moved away when the Great Depression hit, and she made a promise with a new friend to leave Arcadia Bay the first chance they got. Compared to where she was before, she was actually happy at her current status, though she wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to fight in the Pacific and put a bullet in Japanese soldiers for taking her father away from her. He served in the Great War, came home, and had her not long after. Unfortunately, 30 years later, another one would break out. Due to his previous service, he was stationed in Pearl Harbor as a senior officer. Then December 7th of 1941 came along and changed her entire life. Starting with taking her real father out of it and putting step-douche David Madsen in his place.

Another vet of the Great War, he was always on her. About school, about hanging out, about wasting her time with rusted old vehicles, about anything. After a year of listening to him day after day, she finally had it. She proposed she enlist and fight in the war to get him to shut up, though she secretly only thought of the idea to get away from him _and_ Arcadia Bay. What did he respond with? A snort and, “Good luck.” She smiled when picturing his face when he saw the letter that she received from the WAC, and was flown out to Iowa with Rachel days later to begin training. 

It wasn’t anything special. They were tested to find their area of expertise. Her mechanical skills proved to be valuable, and not long after basic training was finished, she was shipped off to North Africa with the 1st Infantry Division in late 1942, while Rachel was kept back for further training since she had impressed the officers stationed at Fort Des Moines with her skills. The time she spent in North Africa wasn’t particularly enjoyable. For starters, it was hot. Really hot. Then there was the sand, which made her job ten times harder, especially when working with the Willys MB. But the worst part was dealing with the other soldiers. Hostility was loudly voiced, and not much was done about it. If there was anything positive that came from David, it was that she became used to yelling and criticism. She put up with it for almost half a year before she shut them all up by taking control of an anti-tank gun at El Guettar, pushing back several German armored advancements. 

The actions that she took during the battle attracted the focus of the platoon leader, Lieutenant John Deckard, and he requested to have her trained and added among his ranks. It took some time, but she was eventually added to the 1st platoon of the 1st Infantry Division by the end of the Tunisia Campaign. Surprised by his action, she approached him, wondering why he wanted her as part of his division. He simply replied, “Kill a Kraut, you’re good in my book.” The reply didn’t satisfy her, but she wasn’t complaining about being a part of an infantry division. She soon found out Rachel was assigned to the same division after she finished her training, which made things slightly more bearable.

Her first taste of real action came during the Sicily invasion. Landing at Gela, they were met with Italian and German tanks, though naval bombardment had made quick work of them. Moving through the mountains, they encountered heavy German artillery fire at Monte Basilio, pinning them down. Though Deckard had maneuvered them into an effective place to engage, Rachel took her and a few others and cleared out several machine gun nests that the Germans had put in place. Despite suffering heavy casualties, they held position thanks to efforts from Rachel and others that did the same, at least until the 9th Infantry rolled through, allowing them to rest. Both of them, as well a few others, earned a promotion for their actions.

When the invasion of Sicily was completed, they returned to England in anticipation of the invasion of France, and after six months off, they were back.

Her reminiscing was suddenly interrupted. 

“Well look who it is. One move in North Africa and you think you’re just like the rest of us?”

 _Great._ She sat up on her chair and looked up at the person that just ruined her alone time. “I’d like to see you do something like that, Nathan.”

“Hey,” he replied, beginning to walk towards her. “I can do ten times what you can. You’re only here because of Deckard, if you’ve forgotten.”

Every chance he got, he reminded her of that, which pissed her off. As she thought of something smart to say back to him, someone else joined their conversation. 

“Prescott.”

“What?” he asked angrily, spinning around.

 _Rule number one. Never piss off John Deckard,_ Chloe thought, sitting back, getting ready to enjoy the show.

“What did you say to me?” Deckard asked, walking over to Nathan. “Say it again.”

Nathan was silent.

“Thought so. You better start shaping up, ‘cause if this platoon gets a new leader, there’s no way in hell they’ll tolerate your attitude.”

“Hey. My father is-”

He got in Nathan’s face. “Don’t start going on about your family bullshit. I don’t care how much wealth your family has. I don’t care how much prestige your family has. I wouldn’t give two shits if your father was President of the entire goddamn United States! _You_ are under _my_ command, and _you_ are going to lay off of her. Whether you like it or not, she’s part of the division.”

“Oh, have a soft spot for her, I see?”

Chloe smiled. _Big mistake._

“You better watch your lip, boy. If it weren’t for her and Amber, we’d be dead back in Sicily. Now fuck off and get to the goddamn briefing.”

“Fine,” Nathan grunted, walking past him.

“Hey! What did you say?”

Nathan turned around. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, _Lieutenant,”_ Nathan said with a sneer before leaving.

He watched Nathan leave the room before turning to Chloe. “What the fuck are you smiling at?”

“Huh? Oh, just enjoying you ripping into him. If I may add, I was expecting more of a show.”

“Yeah, well, there’ll be a show in about ten minutes,” he said, leaning up against one of the many double bunks in the room.

“So… I’m guessing you came here for a reason other than finding him and giving him a hard time?”

“Yeah, just checking to see that you’re up for the briefing. We don’t want a repeat of Sicily, do we?”

“Hey. I was tired.”

“And you’re not tired now?”

Chloe inhaled on her cigarette. “Right now? More pissed than anything, ‘cause of… well… Nathan,” she explained, trying not to sound angry.

“I don’t blame you. Sorry you gotta go through this.”

Chloe put up her hand. “It’s… fine.”

“No, it’s not. At least you got the respect of the rest of the men.”

She just nodded. Even though she was formally with them for almost a year, she still had one persistent thought going around in her mind: _Why?_ “Hey… look. I’ve got… a question.”

“Sure, shoot.”

She sighed. “Why… did you want me as part of the platoon?”

“Price,” he started, sitting down on a chair across from her. “I told you already.”

“You gave me a saying, not an answer.”

“Okay, fine. I wanted you because you took the initiative. You saw everything that was happening, you saw we were in the shit, and you took action. And you proved my point in Sicily with Amber, and you have a chance to do the same here.”

She nodded. At least it was a better answer than he gave before. 

Deckard glanced at his watch. “Oh, shit. Briefing’s about to start.” He stood up and began to leave before looking back at Chloe. “You coming?”

“Yeah, give me a second.”

He nodded before leaving. 

Not long after he left, Chloe got up and walked over to an ashtray in the room, inhaling on her cigarette one last time before sticking it in. _Fuck._

*****

On deck, the droning of dozens of B-24s filled the cold, cloudy sky. Mixed with the naval bombardment of the coast and the crashing of waves on the ships made it hard to concentrate on the briefing, but Chloe did the best she could.

“Today, gentlemen, is the beginning of the end. With our allies, we will rid the German war machine that has tormented Europe for the past five years. It will be difficult. They will put up a fight. But as Eisenhower said, ‘The eyes of the world are upon you.’ And they are. If we are successful here, the story of this day will be told for countless generations. Good luck.”

If there was anything Major Brad Willis could do, it was giving one hell of a speech.

“Alright, load up the landing crafts!”

She walked over to the side of the ship to load up, but was interrupted.

“Chloe!”

She turned around to see a smiling face. She smiled back. “Rachel!”

Rachel pulled her into a small hug before gazing at the beach. “Looks like hell.”

“Better than wasting away in Oregon.”

Rachel let out a small laugh before nodding in agreement. 

“Hey! You two!” 

They both jumped, turning to face an officer. “Load up. Now.”

“Yes, sir. Come on, Chloe.”

As they climbed down a cargo net from the troopship and loaded into the small landing crafts, Chloe recalled how she got here. From Oregon and Iowa, to North Africa and Sicily, and now here. All she wanted to do was get away from step-douche, and now she’s in a landing craft with three dozen other men, ready to take back France from the Nazis. She was loaded in the very back corner, in front of Nathan and diagonal from Deckard, with Rachel right by her side. 

The landing crafts pulled away from the troopships. She looked around at the countless other crafts that were heading for the beaches before glancing at the large battleships off the coast, the _Texas_ and the _Arkansas,_ which were supposed to provide naval support while storming the beaches. Choppy waves rocked the landing crafts, causing some to get seasick inside. She tried her best not to focus on it.

“Hey, all of you,” Deckard began, turning and glancing at each one of them. “Get the sand out of your weapons. Stay fast, stay low and do not bunch up. Get to the sea wall as fast as possible and clear those damned murder holes. I’m proud to lead you into battle. Now let’s get this done.”

“Forty-five seconds out!” the steerer yelled.

Shells splashed into the water around them. 

Chloe looked around the craft, seeing a couple soldiers saying prayers or trying to drink with shaky hands. Nathan was muttering something, Deckard was checking his M1911, while Rachel was jotting something down in the journal she carried. She looked down at her own hands, realizing hers were shaking as well before taking a deep breath, attempting to steady them before taking off her helmet and looking at the right side of it, seeing the _RA_ that Rachel had written on it right after defending Monte Basilio, saying, “we’ll be with each other to the end,” as she wrote it. Chloe put the helmet back on and pulled it down so it was just above her eyes. She was ready for whatever fate awaited her on the beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AGAIN NOT SUPPOSED TO BE ENTIRELY HISTORICALLY ACCURATE**
> 
> Yes, I’m still working on Life is the Nuclear Wasteland, I just need a little change of scenery. With school and everything, it’ll be hard to find time to write, but I will finish that one and this one.
> 
> Also, all comments/feedback/anything is welcome.


	2. Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Storming the beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the Saving Private Ryan scene. Watch it if you haven’t.

Bullets pounded the landing craft as it hit the shore.

“Get those bangalores ready!” Deckard yelled.

A whistle blew. 

“Lowering ramp!”

As soon as it opened, machine gun fire ripped through them. Hardly any made it out.

“Over the sides! Over the sides!”

Deckard threw himself up and over the left side, as did Rachel. Nathan jumped over the right. Chloe put her hand on her helmet and jumped over the side, being submerged in the water of the English Channel, briefly muffling the gunfire. Bullets whizzed past her and hit the water as she came up from underneath, wading to cover behind one of the dozens of metal tripods set up on the beach. Several others were using it as cover from the relentless hail of bullets. 

All around was death and chaos. Dead bodies littered both the beach and the water, the water having a tainted red color from the blood. As more crafts landed on the beach, the men inside were gunned down as quickly as the ramps were opened. Anyone that was still alive was hiding behind whatever sort of cover they could find. Shells were still pounding the beach, sending up wads of sand into the air. One made a direct hit on a few unlucky soldiers, blowing them to a mangy mess of blood and flesh. She tried to shake off the sight. This is war. People are going to die. 

“Sergeant! Is this all that made it out?” Deckard yelled at them from behind another tripod. 

“We’re what’s left, sir!” 

“What do we do?” Chloe asked as bullets pinged off their metal cover.

He surveyed the area. “We’re moving up! Sergeant Kennick!” he yelled to another group of soldiers. 

“Lieutenant!”

“Move your men up the beach!”

Kennick nodded before turning and shouting orders at his men.

“Lieutenant!” another soldier called to him. “Where’s the rallying point?”

“Anywhere but here! Move up, let’s go!” Deckard shouted, coming out from behind the tripod half crouched and began to advance towards the seawall. Several soldiers followed. 

“Price, get moving!” Nathan yelled at her before leaving cover. 

She looked around before gripping her M1 Garand, coming out from behind cover and moving to the next tripod.

“Keep pushing!” 

Soldiers were being mowed down around her, which caused her to start running, not wanting to die like so many others. She was so focused on making it to the sea wall that she didn’t hear a soldier yell, “Incoming!” A shell exploded behind her, throwing her forward and face first onto the sand, losing grip of her rifle and helmet. Her vision was blurry as she picked her head up from the sand and looked around. Others tried to advance, only to be shot within seconds of entering the open. A flamethrower nearby exploded, engulfing everyone around it in flames. The screams of the wounded filled the air, the only thing louder being the constant buzzing fire from the MG 42 nests overlooking the beach. 

She snapped back to reality when her helmet was placed back on her head. 

“Come on, Chloe. You’re not dying here. Not on my watch at least.” 

“Rachel,” she said as she grabbed her rifle before Rachel helped her to her feet. “Thanks.”

She nodded. “Come on!” 

They ran towards the seawall, throwing themselves up against it. 

“We’re here, sir!” Rachel yelled.

“This ain’t enough!”

“Well, we gotta clear the beach eventually, Prescott.” Deckard turned to the soldier to his right, who had a field phone with him, grabbing him on the shoulder. “Shore party! Shore party! No armor has made it ashore. Repeat, no armor is ashore. Sergeant Kennick!” 

“Sir!”

“Whose with you?”

“My platoon, as well as what’s left of the 4th and 7th. The rest are pinned down back at the shoreline.” 

“Fuck.” Deckard grabbed the soldier with the field phone again. “Shore party! Shore party! First wave, ineffective! We do not hold the beach, repeat, we do not hold the beach!”

“Sir! We need to clear the seawall!” 

“Shore party! Shore…”

“Field phone’s shot to shit, sir,” the soldier said, holding the bullet riddled piece of equipment.

“Where’s your rifle?”

“Bottom of the channel, sir. This was more important.”

“Well, find another one. Go, go.” He turned to Nathan. “You still got the bangalore?”

“Yes sir.”

“Bring it out.”

Nathan took a long metal from off his back.

“Bangalore on the line!”

The torpedo was carefully slid onto the top of the seawall. 

“Sir,” Nathan said, holding out his hand with a blasting cap. Deckard took it and inserted it into the end of the bangalore.

“Sir,” a voice said from his right. The same soldier that had the field phone now held a BAR.

“Perfect timing. Alright, ready! Clear the shingles! Fire in the hole!” Deckard yelled as he pulled the blasting cap out of the bangalore and slid it over the seawall.

“Fire in the hole!”

“Fire in the hole!”

The bangalore exploded, sending a large amount of sand into the air and clearing a way into the trenches. 

“Alright! We’re in business people! Up and over! Up and over!” Deckard commanded. 

Chloe wiped the sand off her shoulders before following Rachel and the others into the trenches. Still under fire, they made their way up a small hill to a blown out wall, giving all of them cover from a machine gun nest that was blocking their advancement. They huddled close together to make enough space for each soldier. 

“I think I’m sitting on something,” Nathan remarked.

“Yeah. My hand,” Deckard said, taking his right hand off of the ground and pointing at one of the soldiers. “Simmons, see how many guns are up there.” 

Simmons crawled over beside him, poking his head out from behind cover before falling onto his back, several bullet holes riddled in his head and chest. Deckard pushed it away with his boot, the dead body rolling back down the hill.

“Well that worked.”

“Shut up, Prescott,” Deckard said, shoving his Thompson into Nathan’s hands. “Hold this.” He pulled out his 1911 from his left holster.

“What’re you doing?” Chloe asked.

“Watch.” Without looking, he emptied the seven bullet magazine, briefly silencing the MG42. He peered over the wall, getting a quick glimpse at the nest before returning, the gun firing again.

Deckard released the empty magazine, throwing it down the small hill before inserting a new one into the handgrip and returned it to his holster. “Laid down fire on them to get a look at what we’re up against. Two MG42s, about eight-ish yards away,” he explained as he took out a grenade from a pouch.

“Grenade? Really?” Nathan asked. 

Deckard glared at him. “Hey. I played baseball for a little before I was drafted. I got a decent throwing arm.” He pointed at the soldier that had the field phone back at the seawall. “Okay, you-”

“Adam, sir.”

“Alright. Adam. You and… uh… Price. Over here,” he said, standing up and gesturing them behind him. “Lay down some fire on them-”

The guns turned to fire at something else, giving them an opportunity. 

“Now!”

Adam went first, taking aim at the gun emplacement, firing his BAR and emptying the 20 round magazine before ducking back behind cover. As he reloaded, Chloe fired her M1 until the en bloc clip went empty and flew out of the rifle with its signature _ping._ Deckard then pulled the pin and waited about two seconds before lobbing it out from cover with his right hand. 

The grenade did the trick, exploding and destroying the machine gun nest. The German soldiers that were manning the guns rolled down the bluff they were stationed on top of, a few of the soldiers coming out of cover and putting several rounds into them.

“We’re open! Sergeant Kennick! Advance your men!” Deckard yelled back down the hill before turning to his men, taking his Thompson back from Nathan. “Into the trenches! Price, since you and Amber handle yourselves well, take a couple soldiers and head left. Prescott and I will take right. Meet us back here when you’re finished. Got it?”

She nodded.

“Good. Jones, Wharton, and… you three,” he said, motioning to some other soldiers. “Go with them.”

Taking Rachel and the four others, she led them through the damp and dirty trench, leading up to a small clearing with a bunker entrance in view, with several sandbags set around the entrance as cover. Making her way to a wall of sandbags, she waved her hand, telling the others to move up, Rachel, Jones, and Wharton making it to cover successfully. As the last two soldiers were making their way to the sandbags, rifle and submachine gun fire came out of the bunker, killing them. About four Germans came out after, firing at them.

Without having to be told, they returned fire. Rachel and Chloe each took one with their Garands, while Jones sprayed the other two with his Grease Gun. 

“There’s bound to be more coming out soon,” Rachel said. 

“Shit,” she responded, spitting on the ground before looking over at the other two. “Jones, what’s your equipment?”

He opened the pouch carrying grenades, glancing in it briefly before looking back at her. “Just some smoke grenades, Corporal.”

“Good enough. Smoke the bunker.”

“Alright,” he said, standing up, grenade in hand. “Smoke out!” he yelled, pulling the pin on it and lobbing it into the bunker doorway just in time before a large white plume of smoke came bellowing out.

“Empty the rest of your mag into the bunker!”

He nodded before aiming into the bunker, firing three three shot bursts before running his mag went dry. 

“Wharton! Light it up!”

She watched as he ran from cover to the entrance of the bunker with his M2 flamethrower and igniting the inside, flames rising up out of the opening overlooking the beach, any German left inside screaming as they burned. 

“Bunker’s clear. Let’s get back,” Chloe said to them as the yelling slowly died down. 

Though they silenced one machine gun nest, mortar fire still filled the air as they made their way back to the bluff they had cleared out earlier, Nathan and Deckard, as well as Kennick, were already there. They came back in time to overhear what was left of a conversation. 

“Lieutenant, I sent what was left of the 4th platoon up to take out that GPF cannon up the road, but they haven’t returned. I would send some men to check it out myself, but we’re fucked over enough as it is.”

Chloe saw Deckard glance at Kennick before noticing them. “Fine. Price, Amber, go up and check on the 4th. Kennick, send your men back down. Everyone else, with me. Let’s clear those damn mortars.” With that, he took the rest of the 1st Platoon back into the trenches, leaving just Chloe, Rachel, and Kennick and his men.

“What?” Chloe asked, looking at Rachel, who just shrugged. She turned to Kennick, who was facing his men. He turned around as they descended back down the bluff, pointing his hand at the road to his right. 

“There was a GPF cannon up there shelling the beach, so I sent the 4th Platoon up there to take it out, but they haven’t returned yet.”

“So… we’re supposed to go up there and see what happened to them?”

“Yes. And if they haven’t destroyed the cannon, destroy the cannon.” Kennick turned and began to walk back down to the beach.

“We should probably go,” Rachel said.

They were silent walking up the road until they caught sight of several bodies, torn to mangled shreds.

“Oh… pleasant,” Chloe said, tightening her hold on her rifle as they approached what looked like a farmhouse, an overturned vehicle burning on the side of the road. 

The cannon was in the middle of a small house and a barn, still operational. More bodies, both German and American, littered the ground. 

“Think anyone’s left?” Chloe asked. 

“Dunno. Check the barn. I’ll take the house.”

Approaching the barn, she heard a sound as if something fell. As she walked inside, she found a soldier on the ground with a bayonet to his face, tackled by a German soldier.

 _Oh no you don’t._ “Hey, Kraut!” she yelled as she raised her M1 Garand. The German looked up at her as she pulled the trigger, putting a bullet in his shoulder, causing him to stumble back. The soldier on the ground took out an M1911 and fired two more shots into the German, killing him. As Chloe approached, she noticed he was without his helmet. She shouldered her rifle before scouring the barn floor for a few seconds before catching sight of it, picking it up before holding out her other hand to him, helping him up. 

“Hey, thanks for that,” the soldier said, taking her hand. 

“Sure thing. Here’s your helmet,” she said, holding his helmet out to him. 

“Thanks,” he responded as he took it and put it on his head before quickly taking it off. “Wait… Chloe?”

Chloe took off her helmet. “Max?” 

Before she could say anything else, she was pulled into an embrace from her best friend. She hugged her back, glad to see her again in over ten years. 

Their moment together seemed like an eternity. 

“Sorry to interrupt… whatever you’re doing,” Rachel said from the barn entrance, causing Chloe to jump, “but no one’s left. We need to take out that GPF ourselves. Who’s that?” she asked, pointing at Max.

She stood at attention. “Private Max Caulfield, 4th platoon.”

“Oh, Chloe’s old friend. She’s said a lot about you,” she said, slinging her rifle over her shoulder before reaching out her hand. “I’m Rachel.”

Max took her hand, shaking it.

“So… we should probably get you back to the beach.”

“What about that cannon?” Chloe asked.

“There’s a helmet with explosives next to it. Just need someone to,” she held out a thermite grenade at her, “do the honors. Found it on one of the bodies.”

Chloe smiled, taking the grenade. “Sure thing.”

Rachel nodded before walking back outside.

“You coming, Max?”

“Yeah… just… give me a second.”

Chloe watched as Max picked up her rifle off of the barn floor before trudging out the door. She noticed that she seemed dazed by something, but didn’t mention anything. 

Walking outside, she motioned them to the other side of the road before approaching the cannon, noticing the helmet of explosives next to it. She pinned and tossed it on the ground next to the helmet before booking it away from the cannon, the grenade going off a few seconds later with a loud _BANG._ She turned back around to look at it, the 20ft barrel now pointing at the ground. “Fuck yeah!”

“Now that that’s done, we should probably get back to the beach now and tell them what happened to the 4th.”

“Good, the cannon’s destroyed.”

They turned to see Deckard standing in the middle of the road.

“Thought you were clearing out the trenches,” Chloe said.

“Yeah, we were. We’re finished. Came to see if you were dead or not.” He pointed at Max. “That’s all that’s left?”

She nodded.

“Huh. Okay. Amber, take him-”

“Her,” Chloe corrected him. 

He started at her. “Okay. Amber, take _her_ down to the beach to Kennick.”

They both looked at Chloe before they walked off. 

After they were gone, Deckard walked towards her, surveying the bodies on the ground. “Damn. Looks like a slaughter.” 

She sighed. “If I could’ve gotten to them sooner…”

“Hey.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t go blaming yourself. You’re still alive, right?”

She nodded. 

“And you saved at least one member of the 4th, right?”

“Yeah… I guess… but…”

“Then that’s all that matters,” he said, cutting her off. “Saving one is better than none at all. Now get some rest. You need it.” He turned and walked back down the road. 

She watched him for a little while before looking back down at the dead bodies. She was one of the lucky ones.

*****

Sitting on top of the bunker she had cleared out earlier, she had a view overlooking the beach that, just hours before, was hell on earth. The dead were being removed, and almost no equipment was ashore, though . She reached into her helmet that was laying next to her, taking out a cigarette from her pack and lighting it.

“Mind if I join you?” a voice called.

Chloe looked behind her. She smiled. “Rachel. Sure thing.”

Rachel walked over and sat down beside her, taking off her helmet and letting down her blond hair. She took out another cigarette, offering it to her.

“Thanks,” Rachel said as she took out her lighter and lit it. 

“Hell of a day, huh?”

“Say that again. Least we pulled through.” 

“Yeah, because you saved my ass on the beach.”

Rachel nudged her. “Wasn’t just going to leave you there.”

Silence fell over them as they looked north, the occasional rumble of artillery to the East. 

“So… your friend seems nice.”

Chloe nodded. “Yeah. What’d they want with her on the beach?

“Reassignment. Since the 4th was wiped out, she’s being transferred to a new platoon. Deckard said he’s going to work on getting her transferred to ours.”

“Oh.”

“Thought you’d be happy about that.”

“What? No! No, I am. It’s just… she seemed… off.”

“Off?” Rachel gave her a puzzled look. “She was quiet when I was walking with her, but that’s it.”

“No, she usually is quiet, but it’s… I… I dunno how to describe it.” She flicked away her cigarette. “She seemed… dazed.”

“Well,” Rachel began, nudging her again. “Maybe it was seeing you again? You know you have that effect on people.”

Chloe nudged her back. “You’re full of shit.” Looking back out towards the beach, she couldn’t help but wonder about Max.

“Hey,” she said, putting a hand on her shoulder. She always knew when something was bothering her. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t talk to her about and fix.”

Chloe looked over at her. She was giving her a warm smile. She smiled back before reaching over her for her helmet. 

“What… what are you doing?”

“You’ll see,” she responded, taking out a pen and writing on the right side of her helmet before giving it back.

 _“My angel. To the end. CP.”_ Rachel smiled, putting an arm around her shoulder. “To the end, huh?”

She did the same. “To the end.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, fight scenes. The second pain in my ass after real life. 
> 
> Updates will probably continue to be very unpredictable. I’ll do my best to get on a schedule, every 1-2 weeks per chapter, but no guarantees.


	3. Catching Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Downtime chapter. More action’s coming up next.

“Easy… easy…”

Chloe groaned. “What the hell’s in here?”

“Ammunition. Now, set it down.”

The munitions crate was carefully stacked upon many other crates unloaded following the capture of the beach. 

“Okay,” Chloe said, stretching, “So… anything else for us to unload?”

“Well,” Deckard said, checking his clipboard, “uh… no. You two are good for the rest of the day.” 

Chloe seemed bemused. “Really?”

“From what it says here, yeah. And hey, enjoy it. There’ll be hardly any downtime in the future, so enjoy the quiet while you can.” He patted Chloe on the shoulder before turning to head back inside the LST.

“Wait, Deckard, have you seen Rachel today?”

He turned around to face her before glancing down at his clipboard. “Uh… she’s helping unload stuff with Prescott down that way.” He pointed east. “Should probably go check on them,” He muttered before walking away, leaving just her and Max standing around with no other orders, as far as they knew.

“So,” she said, turning to Max. “Now that we’ve got nothing else to do, any suggestions?”

“Uh… mind if we just walk around?”

“Sure. That’s fine.” 

“Wait! Hold on.” 

She watched Max run back into the LST, only to come out a few seconds later. With a camera. 

“Still carrying around a camera, huh?”

Max just shrugged.

As they walked along the shore, it looked completely different than it did yesterday. Before only machine-gun fire, mortar shells, and screams of the wounded filled the air, with blood and bodies littering the sand. Now, chattering soldiers and the sounds of materiel being unloaded were abound. It was so different that Chloe could have sworn she was on a different beach. 

“So… Max,” Chloe started, looking to her left, only to realize that she wasn’t there. “Max?”

She looked around to see her standing a few yards away from an LST that was unloading a jeep. Walking over to her, she noticed she was getting a picture, so she stopped, not wanting to disturb her. 

“After ten years, you’re still Max Caulfield,” Chloe said to her when she finally turned around. Max didn’t respond. She just stood there, doe-eyed, looking at her, holding her camera, which gave her an idea. 

“Hey. I’ve got a good spot if you want to get a few pictures.”

Following the same path the 1st Platoon had cleared the previous day, she led her through the trenches, the wind gently blowing over them, the commotion from the beach was faint from where they were. 

“Alright. Here we are.”

“It’s… a bunker, Chloe.”

“Yeah. We’re going on top,” she responded as she climbed onto the crate she used to get on top yesterday before turning around and looking at Max, holding out her hand. “Well?”

She saw her shrug before she walked over, hoisting herself up onto the crate before taking her hand to help her up onto the concrete roof.

“See? What’d I tell you?” Chloe said, walking over to the edge before taking off her helmet, setting it down next to her.

“Yeah… it’s… wow.” Max walked beside her, taking off her helmet as well. 

She watched as Max raised her camera to her take a few more pictures, wondering how the hell she was drafted. How did she even end up in France? She knew the 1st Infantry needed recruits when she and Rachel were training in Iowa but didn’t they need soldiers in the Pacific? Come to think of it, Deckard mentioned something about the Mariana Islands a few days before.

“So…” she began, turning to her. “How did Max Caulfield end up with a rifle in northern France?”

“Uh… I… don’t know. I thought I could get some good pictures of the war… for… you know… a photography portfolio. Next thing I know, I’m given a gun and being told how to shoot… and… yesterday…” she began to trail off.

Chloe noticed she had the same dazed look on her face when she found her back at the barn. “Speaking of yesterday, you seemed kinda off when I found you in the barn. You okay?”

Max started rambling, “I… I don’t know. I… I froze up. I’m sorry, Chloe…”

“Max, Max, it’s okay.” Chloe tried to calm her down. 

It didn’t work.

“Max,” Chloe said again, this time taking off Max’s helmet and flicking her on the forehead before putting it back on. “Focus, okay? You didn’t do anything.”

“That’s exactly _it,_ Chloe! I didn’t do anything to help! I… I shouldn’t be here…”

“No. No.” Chloe grabbed Max by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “You _are_ here now, and it brought us back together. Don’t worry about what happened, Max. This was your first time in combat, right?”

She nodded. 

“Everyone freezes up their first time in combat, whether they admit it or not. Even me.”

“Even you?”

“Yeah.” Chloe took off her helmet and sat down on the bunker roof, looking off at the beach. Max sat down beside her. “Monte Basilio, Sicily. We were cut off from the rest of the 1st Infantry, and our supplies were going fast. We were in the shit. Then Rachel took charge and we cleaned up several Kraut machine gun nests. Thanks to her and the others that came along, we held out.”

“Woah. That was your first time fighting?”

“Officially? Yeah. I helped blow up some Kraut armor in North Africa before I was let into the 1st.”

Silence fell over them as they took in the view of the beach. 

“Your friend seems nice,” Max said after a short while.

“Oh, Rachel? Yeah, she’s awesome. My angel. After you left Arcadia Bay, it was just my parents. Then my dad got sent off to Pearl Harbor, and…”

“Oh, Chloe. I’m sorry.”

“It’s… it’s fine, Max. My mom tried to replace him with some other veteran. A complete asshole. Fortunately, I met Rachel in early… ‘42… I think. Fast forward a few months and we’re training in Iowa, and not long after I’m shipped to North Africa. You trained in Iowa too, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah.”

“How? Er… how did you get to Iowa?”

Max hesitated at first but eventually explained. She told how she kept her camera after she moved to Seattle and originally came to England with the 4th Platoon to photograph their daily life, but was eventually given a rifle. She was trained and had to partake in their training operations in preparation for Normandy.

“Damn,” Chloe said when she was finished. “So you moved to Seattle? How was it?”

“No better than Arcadia Bay. Dad had a hard time finding a job… just like a lot of people. We were able to get by, but if it weren’t for the war… we would be…”

“I feel ya, Max. after you left, we did anything we could to get by. Wasn’t fun, but I’m glad we don’t have to worry about it anymore. Hey, this view kind of reminds me of when we used to sit up at the lighthouse.”

“Yeah. It was nice there. All the memories…”

Their conversation slowly changed to reminiscing their childhoods in Arcadia Bay. No war, no depression, just being able to live carefree in a small seaside town. They eventually lost track of time, talking well into the evening. 

“Hey, you two,” a voice called from behind them. They jumped before turning around. “Rations are out, thought you might want to know.”

“Thanks, Rachel. Where were you all day?”

“Unloading supplies in the morning. I went to the firing range after to pass some time.”

“Hmm. I’ll have to go down there sometime. Anyway, we’re coming.”

Rachel nodded before descending back into the trenches.

“Shit, what time is it?” Chloe said. “Five? Damn, I can’t believe we talked the whole afternoon.”

“I know. Didn’t feel that long.”

“Speaking of long, if we take too long, the stuff’s going to be cold.”

After returning to the beach and receiving their rations, they join Rachel and Deckard near a campfire set up on the beach, eating in silence. 

“This sucks,” Deckard randomly blurted out.

“What, the food? Yeah, it does.”

“I’m not talking about the rations, Price. These are better than what we had in North Africa. I’m talking about our current situation. Behind me is the English Channel, and behind you is Kraut infested France. And here we are, sitting around a campfire on the beach eating.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point,” he began, “is that we’re doing nothing, and our next big action is Marigny, and god knows when that’s going to happen. It just seems we’re vulnerable here… but… I dunno. Maybe I’m overthinking.”

“You’re always overthinking,” someone said from behind him, flipping the back of his helmet up off his head.

Deckard picked it up before turning around, holding the helmet as if he were going to smash it against them. “You little son of a… well, fuck me with a buzz saw. Look who’s back.” He put his helmet back on his head before pulling the soldier into a hug before sitting back down. “So, they’re finally letting you back on the front?”

The soldier nodded before sitting down next to Deckard. “Yeah. They said you guys needed as much manpower as possible.”

“Well, we could’ve definitely used some unloading all the shit this morning. Where were you for most of today, anyway?”

“Doctor’s still pissing over the injury I got from the crash. Says I still need to take another week or so to heal.”

“Well, you should have enough time to heal before we get moving again. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you six feet away from any steering wheels.”

“Wait. You’re the one that was involved in the jeep crash back in May?” Rachel asked.

“Yep. Sergeant, formerly Staff Sergeant, Jack Winsel,” Deckard replied, giving him a pat on the back.

Winsel glared at him out of the corner of his eyes.

“Too soon?”

He mouthed, “Yeah.”

‘Well, you’ll get over the demotion eventually.”

“Wait, you got demoted? Why?”

His glare turned to Rachel.

“Oh, you don’t know? He was joyriding,” Deckard explained. 

“I’ll earn it back.”

“No doubt about that. Oh, Howard’s back, by the way. Talked to him earlier today.”

“He’s a tough bastard, alright.”

“Howard?” Chloe asked.

“Staff Sergeant Brain Howard, 716th Tank Battalion. We served with him in North Africa before you shocked everyone, Price. He was injured in Italy, but now he’s back. Once we finally move on from here, we’ll be aiding his battalion.”

“Glad he’s back. He’s a good guy. Didn’t he have the same Sherman in North Africa?”

“In _Sicily,_ Winsel. The M3 Mediums were in North Africa, not the Shermans. Don’t you remember the Krauts’ reactions when they saw us coming with a line of them?”

“Oh yeah,” Winsel said, smirking. “Heh. Good times. Hey, remember this?”

The next few hours were passed with stories from Deckard and Winsel, from their time before the war to North Africa. 

Eventually, the sun began to set, causing Winsel to stand up and look at the darkening sky. “Well, I’m going to punch it for the night,” he said before he turned and left the campfire.

Deckard stood up and stretched. “I’m going to punch it too. You three might want to as well.”

“Geez, you guys are letting us off easy.”

“You got off easy today, Price. There’s still a ton of shit that has to be unloaded, which means you’ll be working for most of the day tomorrow. If you wanna pass some time after, though, hit the firing range. Not the same as putting bullets into the Kraut fuckers, but it’ll keep your eye sharp.” Deckard said as he left the campfire.

Not long after, Max stood up. “I’m going to hit it tonight, too.”

“Yeah, I’m with you. Chloe?” 

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’ll be there. Give me a minute.”

When Max and Rachel left, she pulled out her journal. Though she’s had it for over two years, she’s never written in it. Pondering on what to write, she puts the pencil to the paper.

_Glad I can see Max again. Lots of work tomorrow, no clue when the next fighting will be._

After jotting down her thoughts, she closes her journal and walks under the star-filled sky to the LST. 

*****

As Deckard said, they spent most of the day unloading more supplies. Only after the five o’clock rations was when Chloe finally took Max to the firing range that was set up on the beach, both of them carrying their rifles. Fortunately, the firing range was empty, giving them access to any small arms they wanted.

“So, Max,” Chloe said as she took her rifle off of her shoulder. “You ready?”

“Um, I think so?” Max replied, unslinging her rifle. “I’m just not sure about…”

“Max, come on.” Chloe put a hand on her shoulder, trying to reassure her. “You’ll be fine. And I’m here to guide you. Okay?”

She gave her a small smile. “O-okay. Thanks, Chloe.”

“Woah, woah. Let’s not get too mushy, alright? Now, I’m assuming you know everything there is to know about one of these things?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“Okay. So…” Chloe began, turning to all the targets at the firing range until one in particular caught her eye. She pointed to it. “See that one? The red and white one with the blue circle in the center?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so aim at the blue circle.”

She watched as Max raised the gun to her eye, staring down the iron sights.

“You have it in sight?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Alright. Now take in a breath and fire.”

Max did as she was told, and the first shot hit in between the blue circle and the first white ring. 

“Okay, good. Now empty the rest of the clip.”

She fired seven more times until the clip came out of the rifle with its _ping._

Chloe took a glance at the target. While Max didn’t hit the blue circle much, all her shots were grouped together. “Not bad Max. You got the precision. Now we need to work on accuracy. Here,” she said, giving her another clip. “Let’s go at it again.”

Max took the clip and loaded it into the rifle, but as Chloe was about to guide her again, the chatter from two approaching soldiers interrupted her. 

“I don’t get why you don’t like submachine guns.”

“They’re hard to aim. The recoil sucks, and…”

“No shit the recoil sucks, but you can manage it.”

“Never really figured out how. Besides, I’m better with rifles.”

“Eh, to each their own, I guess. Price, Caulfield,” he said to them

“Deckard, Winsel,” Chloe said in reply. “What’re you two doing here?”

“Well, I was going to show Winsel how to manage recoil, but now I guess we’re just staying sharp. And you?”

“Helping Max with accuracy.”

Deckard nodded before turning to aim at the targets. 

“Reday for another go, Max?”

“Ready.”

She helped Max through the same routine for another hour. Deckard eventually left while Winsel stuck around. 

“Damn, we’re going through a lot of bullets,” Chloe remarked, looking at the ground.

“Holy shit, you’re right. Doesn’t seem to be many over here, though,” Winsel said, moving to Chloe’s left. As he aims to empty another en bloc clip, he flinches, covering his left eye. “Ah! What the fuck!”

“What’d you do?”

“I didn’t do anything, Price! I…” he began before trailing off, looking over to the sea wall before walking towards it. “There’s something over there.”

Max and Chloe just looked at each other before following him.

“Digging in the sand?” Chloe asked as they approached. 

“Hey. I saw something shine over here, and… what the hell?” He moves the sand off of the object before picking it up. 

“A… knife?” Max questions.

“No… not just a knife. Nazi knife. See?” He points at the small black swastika in the middle of a white circle and red square.

“So, what are you going to do with it?”

“Hmm. Good question, Price. I… don’t know…” He ponders for a moment. “No, actually… Deckard would love this,” he said before taking off back to the shoreline.

“I think he wants to get stabbed again,” Chloe remarked. 

“Again?”

“What do you… oh, right. You weren’t there to see it. Remember last night he was talking about his injury and joyriding in a jeep?”

She nodded.

“Well, he crashed said jeep and a piece of metal stabbed him… stabbed? I dunno. _Impaled_ him, I guess. Now I want to see what happens.”

Making their way back to the shore, Deckard comes out of one of the LSTs and walks towards the shoreline with Winsel by his side. As they walked towards them, they overheard their conversation.

“Where’d you get this?”

“It was glaring in my eye at the firing range. I found it on the sea wall.”

“Interesting. So… a Nazi knife, huh?” Deckard said, raising it up. 

“Yeah.”

“Hmm. Cool.” He threw it into the ocean.

“Hey! Why did you…”

Deckard turned to Winsel. “What do I say about Nazis?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What do I say about Nazis?” he asked again.

Winsel sighed. “They’re only good when they’re six feet deep.”

“Damn straight. Don’t you fucking forget it,” Deckard warned him before seeing her and Max, pointing a finger at them. “Don’t you two fucking forget it either,” he said to them before walking away.

“I’m taking that went well?” Chloe joked.

“Yeah, haha. You know I only did it to piss him off.”

Deckard came out of the LST, shoving a Thompson into Winsel’s hands.

“What the hell?”

“Since you showed me something with a damned swastika, I’m going to beat your ass at the firing range.”

“The firing range closes up around now,” Chloe pointed out. “Doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does. Damn it,” Deckard said, taking the Thompson from him before heading back inside the LST. “Forgot about that. Tomorrow then.”

“I hate Thompsons,” Winsel remarked before following him.

“Up for another round tomorrow, Max?” 

“Sure, Chloe.”

Over the following week, with her help, Max was slowly becoming more confident with her rifle, and it was showing. Her accuracy was improving, and she was soon hitting shot after shot on the blue target circle. 

“Shit. Pretty good, Caulfield,” Deckard remarked as Max stopped to reload.

“Thanks… I couldn’t have done it without Chloe,” she replied, looking over at her.

“Aw, come on.”

“No, I’m serious.”

“Well, whatever the case is, you could be a sniper with that good of an eye,” Deckard suggested. “The 1st needs one.”

“I… think I’m comfortable with this for now,” Max replied.

“Hey, no pressure. Just mentioning it.”

“Speaking of, does the 1st need another Thompson?” Chloe asked.

“Think you can handle the recoil?” 

“I don’t know. Let’s find out.”

Deckard handed her his gun. “Be my guest.”

She took it and smiled before aiming the sights at a bright yellow target. Steadying her aim, she pulled the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s another chapter. I have some of the next one written already, so hopefully it might not take as long to post.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta’d. Let me know what you think.


End file.
